Writing

I am finally alone on an alien planet, and it's exactly what I expected: like nothing I would've expected. I like that, because it's a paradox, but it's also completely true. My cousin Ashley would probably agree with me; he was always spouting clichés like, "Expect the unexpected!" And it's thanks to him that I am where I am today; it's thanks to his comprehensive record-keeping that I've been able to survive this long. It's only been a few Earth days, I think, but exploring this planet is not like going for a hike on Earth. Ashley's notes taught me to recognize the signs of a sinkhole about to open, so I've been able to reroute around danger three times already. And I've been able to keep my stomach full due to his descriptions of the most nutritious local vegetation.

Ashley was the botanist, I was the engineer. He nurtured things, I built things; he could figure out how things grew, I could figure out how things were made. Together, we could have been unstoppable. We grew up together, two only children, he as dark as I was pale, but we were as close as twins. We played for so many hours beside and in the small stream in the woods behind our house. He'd watch the plants grow or dig around in the mud, while I crafted fairy huts out of twigs, and attempted to redirect the water's flow.

That's where we were when the aliens first arrived on Earth. Playing happily in that stream. I remember that my mom came running outside, screaming for us to get back in the house. I had never heard her sound so scared. After that moment, I never got a chance to play in the woods again. Those trees have all been cut down, now, and as I write this, I'm sitting by a stream flowing across an alien world, and all that I have left of my cousin is a copy of his notebook.

My name is Paige Palmer, and this is my notebook.

I used to be afraid of the dark. Growing up in the middle of the woods, no street lights would reach my window at night, and the darkness was so absolute I could literally not see my hand in front of my face. Sometimes I would lie in bed with my eyes wide open, trying to make out the edges of my splayed fingers. But I could never force my pupils wide enough to take in the complete absence of light. I don't remember ever growing completely comfortable with the darkness, but something must have shifted inside me during the years of schooling in the city. There is no moon for this planet, and the light of the stars can't penetrate the mushroom-tree canopy. The darkness reminds me of home. I feel safe.

As Ashley pointed out, there's not a lot of biodiversity on this planet. I've been following his digital trail through this strange environment for a while now, and I'm not finding much to capture and hold my attention. My mind has sunk into the past.

After the aliens suddenly arrived, and then just as suddenly left, my life changed. Ashley and I, having the top scores in our local school, were recruited to special intensive schools designed to produce humans who would one day reach out to the aliens. There were all sorts of kids from all different backgrounds, with different, fascinating interests. The discussions we had were wonderful brain exercise, though I tended to let Ashley take the lead when the arguments got too heated. Those were the best years of my life. Maybe. Were they? I certainly enjoyed myself at the time.

Shortly after I turned 22, I was selected to help study and reverse-engineer the technology on an alien ship that had crash-landed on Earth. At the time it didn't occur to me that it had been anything but an accident, but now I wonder what they would have told me if I'd ever asked why it had crash landed. But at the time, I only cared about their fantastic tech.

The ship was formed of three parts: a flat rectangular middle section, and forward and aft sections that could raise and lower themselves. The hull was dark bronze in colour, and covered in abstract-looking spiral designs. As a whole, it was seamless, like it had been grown rather than constructed. This made it rather hard to take apart, but I thrilled at the challenge. I was happy to dedicate my life to the attempt of understanding their solutions to the problems of faster-than-light travel, and I was proud that I'd been chosen to lead the effort.

I didn't expect it to be solved so easily. But I guess that's part of the wonder of an elegant solution: once presented, it seems obvious. It would have taken humanity much longer than my lifetime to figure it out for itself, but with the alien ship in front of us, my team unraveled the mystery in only nine years. After that, it was easy to build functionally identical systems using human construction processes. Soon, the First Fleet was ready to call upon the aliens at their homeworld, and it was Dr. Ashley Palmer's time to shine as Chief Scientist.

Every human on this new planet has access to an abridged version of Ashley's notebooks. High-ranking officers of the First and Second Fleets are given full copies. But only I have access to everything he recorded while traveling this planet. That's because he encrypted some of his files using my public key, and then concealed them among his daily reports using steganography.

I had gotten really obsessed with steganography, the art of hiding secret messages within other documents, when I was a kid, and I had insisted that Ashley learn the technique as well, so we could pretend to be spies. The game didn't last long, but he obviously never forgot how to do it.

I found the letters he wrote to me after I was given a full copy of his notebooks. He wasn't just exploring, he was searching for something in particular. Something he hoped would explain the bio-uniformity of this planet.

I'm retracing his steps to see if I can answer his last question.

The plant life here is strange. Technically, it's more like mushroom life, as Ashley eagerly recorded in his notebooks. I'm actually not sure what the difference is. I had thought mushrooms were plants.

The relatively flat landscape is covered with widely-spaced, grey-trunked trees that grow smoothly upwards until finally branching out into a semi-transparent cap. The ground is uniformly covered by a soft, light-green grass that grows no higher than a decimetre and is quite pleasant to walk on. Occasionally there will be a fungus-shrub covered with large blue berries that Ashley said are safe to eat. I can't quite place the flavour, maybe a bit like dried figs? Or maybe it's just the amount of seeds that's reminding me of figs. I guess they aren't really seeds, either. Anyway, they aren't horrible and they're very filling, so I've mostly been living off those.

Ashley said the most puzzling thing was the lack of diversity. The unchanging scenery does tend to make my journey a little monotonous. It's a little harder to keep track of time, too. I look forward to the breaks, when I come across one of the narrow gorges carved by the clear streams that appear to make up the entirety of this planet's surface water.

So the plant life is strange, but what's even stranger to me is that I haven't yet encountered a single animal. There are no birds flitting from cap to cap, no mammals startled out of hiding by my passing, not even any insects to annoy me. It's so quiet, I've taken to singing to myself as I walk along. I wish I remembered the words to more songs. ‘The Ants Go Marching' is getting old. Still, I don't for a second regret my choice to leave. This eerie sameness is still better than staying with the Fleet.

I'm so stupid! I got careless, complacent, unobservant, and now I'm stuck at the bottom of a hole, my leg's probably broken, it hurts so fucking much, and I'm almost certainly going to die. How could I have let this happen?

I suppose I'm going to have to confront it now. I've been trying to put this off, but the truth, and my part in it, needs to be told, and this will likely be the last chance I get. I need to write it down, because it's my fault.

I was tricked, sure, but only because I allowed myself to be tricked. I was so fascinated by the scientific problem in front of me, so desperate to solve the mystery, that I allowed my vision to narrow until all I saw was the structure of the alien ship. When I finally figured out how it worked, all I felt was my triumph at being the one who advanced human knowledge such a huge amount. When they asked me to help them fly the repaired ship back to the aliens, all I thought about was how good it would be to see Ashley again, and explore that new world together.

And the alien ship truly was a joy to fly. As effortless as thought, it practically felt like I had grown wings. Once we left Earth's atmosphere, it took hardly any time to reach the alien planet's solar system.

The first thing I noticed about the alien planet was how green it was. I had figured that a life-supporting planet, approximately the same size and distance from its star as Earth, would be similarly covered in water. But I'm not a biologist, or geologist, or whatever you have to be to understand how an alien ecosystem works.

I was directed to approach the planet from a specific angle, and heads towards a specific point, where we would rendezvous with the First Fleet's landing party, and Ashley and I would be reunited.

Wait. I think I hear someone approaching.

I really was stupid. I made a mistake, and it would have cost me my life if I hadn't had the absurd luck of being rescued by someone with medical training. I had just gotten too used to this planet, too comfortable with its quiet forests of gently waving fungus-trees. I had zoned out, stopped paying attention to my surroundings, and suddenly I was falling into a sinkhole that had opened itself beneath my weight. Thank God, or somebody, that I was found by a medical doctor. Her name is Althea.

Althea said she had heard me talking to myself. I guess I had taken to doing that, too. I had thought my internal voice was just loud because the planet was so quiet.

As soon as she found me, she threw me down some painkillers. Once they kicked in we were able to work out a way to get me out of that hole. Now I'm resting in a shelter she set up using a folded-over tree as a tarp support. It seems that that's what the trees do here when they get too old - they don't break and topple, they just bend over sideways until their heavy cap rests on the ground.

Oh, and it turns out my ankle is just sprained, not broken. Still, Althea has strictly forbidden me putting any weight on my ankle until she tells me I can, so I guess I'm stuck in this hut for a while. I'm feeling unexpectedly calm about this delay in my journey, perhaps because the pain in my ankle makes the thought of anything but bed rest unappealing.

Althea doesn't stay in the hut much. She seems to share my anti-social tendencies. Or at least she's picked up on mine and respects them. I appreciate the space, but the lack of mobility or human interaction leaves me with very little with which to fill my mind.

Since I have nothing better to do, let me pick up where I left off after Althea's miraculous appearance.

I was flying the alien ship towards a large crowd of humans facing a large crowd of aliens, all filling a gigantic circular crater. I asked the captain what was going on and she told me it was a conference to work out a treaty between our two species. That sounded pretty good to me. Can you imagine what other technological marvels they might be able to share with us?

The captain told me to fly over the alien half of the crowd, which I thought was a little unexpected, and maybe I should've refused, though it probably wouldn't have changed the outcome, at least maybe I would feel a bit better about my role in it? Probably not, though. And I'd probably be dead, too.

As soon as we were above the aliens, my ship opened fire on them. Lasers poured out from all sides. I was frozen in shock; I couldn't take my eyes away. We weren't bringing the ship back as a gesture of goodwill, it was a disguise. The aliens never would've let a human ship get so close. We were all fooled, but I should've known better.

After that massacre, for the next few days, or maybe weeks, I was debriefed by a series of identical-looking military officers, who all asked me the same questions, over and over. I must have answered to their satisfaction, because eventually I was granted an audience with the Commander of the First Fleet herself.

She praised my brilliant mind, that had solved the faster-than-light problem. (Never mind that I had merely figured out the aliens' solution.) She told me my cousin's mind had been equally invaluable to their effort.

"Had been?" My stomach plummeted. Before she even answered, I knew Ashley was gone.

"I'm very sorry to tell you this," (her sympathy almost seemed genuine), "but your cousin was killed in an alien attack during an exploratory mission around the planet."

I stared intently at the corner of her metal desk where the seam had not been welded evenly.

"You two were very close, weren't you?"

The desk was so ugly. Manufacturing is almost always so inelegant.

"We were able to salvage the notes he made. You've been cleared to receive a full copy." She handed me a BookS. I politely thanked her, and left.

My ankle is feeling a lot better, and this morning Althea decreed it healed enough to walk on. I have resumed my journey at a slower pace, and now with a companion. She's a much better singer than I am, and has a much better memory for lyrics. Even when she takes a break from regaling me with odes and ditties, the journey is made more pleasant by the sound of a fellow traveler's footsteps. It's also been easier to spot imminent sinkholes with two pairs of eyes on lookout.

I still haven't told her where I'm going or why, nor has she shared her reasons with me. I did end up telling her that I'm Ashley's cousin, but I don't think that information was enough to clue her in to who I really am. I hope not, anyway.

My familial link came up because we have passed into a region where the blue-berry shrubs no longer grow. The mushroom trees have frilly caps and are rough-barked with deep valleys and narrow ridges, and the ground is covered by a spongy brown mat. Althea found a mushroom that was shaped like a tulip, entirely pale yellow, with a thin stalk topped by a three-pointed cap. We were getting really hungry, and she thought it might be safe to eat. I disagreed, and got out my copy of Ashley's notebooks to try to back up my reasoning. It turns out she was right, and in fact, they're a complete source of human nutrition, even better than the blue-berries. Unfortunately, while failing to prove my point, I also revealed that I have a full copy of his notebooks. Althea seemed surprised and wary to find herself in the company of a high-ranking official, so I had to reassure her that they had only given me one out of courtesy, since I was a family member.

Thankfully, she hasn't started pestering me for stories about our childhood.

Today was very eventful. That's an understatement; today made no sense at all. Shortly after Thea and I began walking this morning, we heard the sounds of power tools and a cheery conversation between two men. I guess I'm starting to feel a little more amicable toward humanity as a whole, because I only hesitated a moment before agreeing to Thea's suggestion that we head toward the sounds.

The voices were coming from a pair of builders who introduced themselves as Ben and Jianguo. They were working on a large warehouse that had been built and then abandoned by the First Fleet's explorers. It looks so out-of-place in this landscape, a huge square edifice, all sharp corners and straight lines, smashing the gentle curves and gradient, foggy colours of this world. I can't even begin to guess why the explorers built it. There's no mention of it in Ashley's notebooks. Why is it there? What was it for? Why did they leave it? Why does it look so old? Surely humans haven't been on this planet long enough to have produced a building that looks this run-down.

Jianguo and Ben proudly informed us that they were renovating the building to turn it into a General Store and Inn for future travellers and traders. They say they're from the Second Fleet's civilian population, here to build a new life on a new planet. They're very friendly, and share an enviable, easy camaraderie. I wish I could trust someone the way those two clearly trust each other. Thea and I haven't reached that point yet.

The men invited us to spend the night on the blissfully dry upper level, which they've already spent a lot of time fixing up. I have to admit that it's amazing to be lying in an actual bed, with a real roof over my head, after camping out for however long it's been. I'm not so sure about the walls, though. I can't tell if I feel safer because of them keeping out the unknown, or more claustrophobic because of them holding me in. Thea doesn't seem to mind. She's already drifted off next to me. Her relaxation is helping me to calm myself. Hearing the evenness of her breathing. I envy her comfort. I don't mean now - the bed is very comfortable, yes - but in general, she is comfortable with herself, who she is, what she wants out of life…

I should try to sleep now.

Althea wants to stay here and help Jianguo and Ben fix up the warehouse. She's really excited about it. She says she thinks she's finally found her place, that this could be a major stop along the route of human expansion. A prosperous trading town that will become an economic hub, a shining city, a jewel in the tiara of human expansion. As the city's founders, we could become wealthy beyond imagining, she says. In the meantime, there will always be use for a doctor.

I see now that we are motivated by very different things, and I should have asked her long ago why she left Earth. Then maybe I wouldn't have been so blindsided by this. But really, what did I think was going to happen? That she would follow me around the planet, entertaining me with songs and patching me up when I got into scrapes? I guess I kinda hoped she would.

I'm going to have to continue my journey alone again.

Humans truly are making themselves at home on this planet. Today I came across a path. It seems to be going roughly the same way as me, so I'll follow it for now. It led me past a farm. The trees had been cleared, and a tractor was plowing up the spongy ground. The watching farmer told me that soon, this whole area will be covered in fields of tulip-mushrooms. This planet is perfectly suited to monoculture, he said.

This just doesn't seem right. How could an alien planet be so good at meeting the basic needs of human life? This was Ashley's big question, but I didn't realize how good a question it was until I saw the farm.

Not only is the atmosphere and weather amenable to humans, but there are no predators, plenty of clean, drinkable water, and the majority of the plant life is not only edible, but extremely nutritious. Sure, some of the plants are poisonous, and you have to be careful about sinkholes, but on the whole, it doesn't take much to adapt to living here. Who were the aliens who lived here? It seems that they may have been very similar to humans. How come I haven't found any sign of their habitation? The only buildings I've yet seen were human. Yet the aliens obviously had a technologically advanced society, judging by their ships. So where are they? We couldn't have killed them all. Where did the survivors go?

I realized that I haven't been putting the date on my notebook entries. This sort of thing would have bothered me before, but time seems to flow differently on this planet, and I have no idea what day it is back on Earth. Does it bother you, future reader? I don't even know if you'll ever exist, so I guess I don't care what you think. No, that's not true, because without your thoughts as you read this page, my words have no meaning. I might as well not exist. We need each other, you and I. Maybe I need you more than you need me. My existence relies upon yours.

My existence also relies upon that of my cousin. The terrain changed today, and that wonderful tulip-mushroom is now nearly impossible to find. I know I'm still heading the right way, though, because Ashley recorded his study of these new plants in his later notebooks. I'm still able to forage plenty and keep my belly full.

The land has shifted and become hilly. The trees are now so widely spaced that at the crest of a hill, I can see the surrounding area. I feel I must be getting close to where Ashley's journey ended.

I made a disturbing discovery today. This morning I looked out over a valley and I saw a lake. The largest body of water I've found on this planet! And because the sky was uncovered, it reflected the blue, so much blue my eyes could hardly handle it after the endless greens and greys.

After my mind was able to wrap itself around that almost-forgotten colour, I began to take in some other details of the scene. A few ramshackle huts stood around the water's edge, and a small boat was pulled up on the shore. Then I saw a glinting in the water: could that be what my cousin had been trying to find? Proof that this planet had been constructed, not evolved?

I rushed down the hillside and found a driver to take me out into the lake. Up close, the water was dark and choppy, but the little boat was able to glide smoothly over the waves.

When we reached the centre of the lake, I was perplexed to find a mostly submerged statue of Jesus Christ on the Cross, made of a shiny silver metal. Had Christians been here and left already? It seemed so out of place. I reached out and touched the top of the cross, and it began to rise from the lake. The statue was attached to a hill, which grew and grew until it was a mountain that completely replaced the lake. The mountain now dominated the landscape, a declaration that this land now belonged to those made in the Lord's image.

The driver and I sat in the boat, which now sat upon the ground, and stared up at the mountain for a while. Then I gathered my things and left. I still haven't walked far enough to escape the statue's gaze. And I still haven't found the answers to any of our questions.